Amanda's Column
August/September 2008
As I sit writing this month’s contribution, the school holidays are drawing to a close. I always find this period a bit of a sweet and sour experience. On the plus side there’s been 7 weeks liberation from constant clock-watching, the pressure of firing out meals at specific times, and not having evenings interrupted by dropping and collecting kids from various clubs. Not to mention the fact that I haven’t given a second thought to the dreaded morning routine of ensuring everyone’s up, dressed, with bags at the ready and packed lunches made - preferably before the school bus leaves the end of the road. It has to be said that I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been transformed from Mary Poppins (although a glummer, tone-deaf version) into Penelope Pitstop and hared after the school bus before finally catching up with it several stops down the road. Thankfully, the bus company always uses its worse specimens for the purposes of the school run which ensures they never go above 25mph!
On the negative side of the long summer break is the continuous organisational tug-of-war ensuring the domestic side of life is balanced with keeping the kids occupied, the headache of arranging any necessary childcare, and the fact that your bank balance takes a pummelling. Now that mine have reached an age when going out and about with your mates is much more enjoyable and far less embarrassing than the same outing with your mother, I seem to have handed over a lot of money this summer without actually gaining any enjoyment from the trip involved – mainly because, other than financial, my only contribution has been as a drop-off agent!
I’ve even worryingly found myself thinking back to their younger days and those carefree afternoons spent in the garden. A colleague was telling me the other day that her son passed an entire afternoon playing with an old washing-up liquid bottle and sending rivers of soapy bubbles (lava) from the top of his slide (volcano) down into the grass (deep ravine) below. Simple pleasures but the kind childhood memories are made from. My mother’s budget used to stretch to one fun afternoon outing each week of the holidays and I still treasure those memories now.
So as the new school year beckons and my hatred of its routine strengthens, I’ve noticed something odd. The image of kids dreading going back to school whilst parents count the days down on their calendar isn’t true in our house. Mine are really looking forward to seeing those friends they haven’t seen for weeks while I feel a bit like a turkey before Christmas. Why? Because when all’s said and done (& they better not be reading this) I really enjoy their company and the extra time the holiday allows us … and I’ll miss having them around!
June/July 2008
It occurred to me the other day, as I was cleaning up walking boots and scrubbing mud off waterproof trousers whilst their owner soaked herself back to civilisation in a hot bath, what a well put together scheme the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award is. It covers all the areas we keep being told are necessary for a well-balanced life and it seems a shame that it’s only available for those under-25. Perhaps the reality is just starting to sink in that age restrictions don’t just occur because you’re not old enough; you can also be too old!
For those not familiar with the scheme, you can progress through 3 levels – from bronze to gold; and have to complete four areas within each level - skill, service, physical recreation and expedition. So as I see it, you have to have a hobby, do some voluntary work & take part in a sporting activity. In addition, you have to organise, train for and complete an expedition of varying length to complete that award.
Having watched my daughter and her friends go through this process over the last year has been both hilarious and rewarding. The expedition, in particular, certainly turned into an experience they’ll never forget. Initially, I think they thought it would be like a camping sleepover with talk of taking a big cool box to keep their midnight feast supplies fresh. Then the realisation that you would have to carry it 25 miles over rough terrain, with a rucksack the same size as you on your back, whilst having to have your hands free for map reading, crept into the equation. As did many other of life’s questions such as - how do you plug in straightners in a tent? They were also faced with the quandary of turning into camels or getting on and answering their calls of nature in the open air (although hopefully for their fellow hikers, behind the nearest tree or boulder!).
I felt so sorry for them when the day of the real, rather than practice, expedition arrived. After nearly a month of dry, almost pleasant weather, we woke to torrential rain which carried on all day and into the night. However, they’re a determined group and nothing was going to stand in their way. According to one of their instructors, they were heard before being seen at the finish, walking in a linked chain and belting out Spice Girl numbers to the long-suffering mountain range.
Realising from such an early age that you can’t just take from the society you’re living in, as well as learning how rewarding giving something back can be, not to mention the feel good factor of succeeding in both individual and group activities can only bode well for their and our futures. It just seems a shame that there isn’t a refresher award for those time-pressed over 25’s who want to improve their lifestyles to the same degree!
May 2008
I’ve got a guilty secret … I was silently hoping that the strike at the oil refinery in Grangemouth was going to linger longer than it did. I hasten to add that this wasn’t to score any political or environmental points. No, my reason was more selfish, I just thought it would give us all a chance to s l o w d o w n. I can still remember (yes, I know I’m showing my age!) the excitement as a child of power cuts and racing around finding candles before the lights went off, as well as getting days off primary school because the heating had had to be shut down.
Now, as an adult, I can see the serious side that bringing the country’s transport systems to a standstill would bring. However, I’m also acutely aware that much of all our busyness wouldn’t exist without the freedom to jump in our cars to do x, y or z. It seems that a whole generation of kids are growing up thinking little more about where their food originates than from the local supermarket.
I thought that perhaps a week or two of us all being at home experiencing difficulty in doing the basic things in life without having the luxury of taking the basics for granted and getting on with our usual hectic routines would have been a wholesome experience.
However, it wasn’t to be. So as I was filling up at the local petrol station watching the other drivers’ looks of relief as they poured fuel into their depleted tanks, my thoughts turned to how driving habits have changed as our lives have speeded up.
Gone are the days of waving or tooting your horn at someone driving the same model of car as yours. I reckon if you tried it these days, you may receive a hand gesture in return but it wouldn’t be a polite one! There just seems to be a lot of anger around with drivers getting very animated with the car in front for the most ridiculous reasons as their destination time becomes more important than anything or anyone else. I regularly see the most ludicrous over-taking stunts going on near my home because a tractor has the audacity to travel at 25mph in a 40mph limit.
I obviously haven’t moved with the times on this one as, although I do find driving more stressful than in the past, I am unable not to see the funny side of grown adults in motorised metal boxes getting so upset with their fellow homosapiens about such trivialities – maybe fairground bumper car attractions should be set up in our towns and cities to allow over-wrought drivers to off-set their built up aggression in a more suitable setting?
April 2008
I’ve just returned from a well deserved Easter break in a remote part of Scotland. However, no holiday would be a holiday without a few events to mark it as unique (well, in my experience anyway!). This holiday has become known in the family as the “Smoke Alarm Break” ... not a disaster I hasten to add, but a lesson learnt the hard way.
We’d had a couple of days rest when we got a message on the mobile one evening. It was from a neighbour at home to say one of the smoke alarms in our house was going off but that there was nothing untoward to be seen. Knowing how loud these things are and being slightly concerned as to what had set the alarm off, we decided that leaving it for another five days was not really on. So, five and a half hours later, my nearest and dearest phoned from home to say that all was quiet and that nothing suspicious bar a faulty smoke alarm had been found. Some time the next day, having left a key with the aforementioned neighbour, he rejoined the family holiday.
It led me to thinking why we hadn’t had the foresight to leave a key with a neighbour in the first place, thereby avoiding this hassle. The answer was probably twofold, lack of organisation and the‘t’ word. It’s fine passing pleasantries across the street but a different thing entirely to entrusting someone you don’t know very well with the key to your home. It seems these days that you automatically think the worst case scenario and err on the side of caution rather than the more old-fashioned belief of thinking the best of someone until proven otherwise.
Luckily, the locals where we were staying were still very much of the latter school of thought. Before we left for this holiday, I had phoned to order food from a shop which delivers twice a week to the remote area we were staying. I offered to pay by card on the phone but the owner was having none of it and said if we weren’t in when he delivered, we should just phone the shop to arrange payment on our return and he would leave the goods outside the property. Luckily, we were in when he called and it was obvious he didn’t just think of his job as one of delivery man. He walked straight in, explained exactly what he’d got for us if an item was in any way different from my order, as well as being very chatty and knowledgeable about the area. Payment, although important, took a back seat to a friendly, personal service.
I think it was this attitude on top of the ‘smoke alarm experience’ that made me realise how much stress can be taken out of our everyday life by being a ‘truster’ rather than a ‘doubter’. Life may have moved on a pace from the days of food delivery from a grocer rather than a supermarket but maybe that’s when we also started to miss out on knowing our local community and the benefits those relationships can offer.
So that was my lesson for this month … I wonder what May will have in store?
March 2008
I’ve come to the conclusion that DIY decoration should carry a Government health warning something along the lines of “The small project you are about to embark on will take over your life for its duration; have implications to all other rooms and members of your household; take twice as long as you’ve assigned to it; and cost at least twice your original budget.”.
Does this sound at all familiar? Sadly, one of the items on my New Year To Do List was to turn my daughter’s room into a teenage study-bedroom from its current girly pink palace state. As February hurtled towards March, action was necessary if a study sanctuary was going to be achieved in time for revision for the end of year exams.
I knew I’d been putting this whole project off because it wasn’t just a simple case of painting some walls – no, it was a full de-clutter, try to get the furniture re-housed as I couldn’t bear to see it go to the tip, find some suitable new furniture, curtains and bedding (which were agreeable to both daughter and parents!), decorate the room and then put everything back together.
In essence, nothing sounded too difficult. In reality, I fail to see how I’ve reached the age I have and still be so naïve! Every step of the way has had problems. When we were moving the furniture out, we thought it would be sensible to re-assemble the bed coming out with its twin bunk across in her brother’s bedroom. It was almost achieved until we realised, when we tried to put the ladder on, that the bottom bunk needed a 180° rotation. The problem being that this room hadn’t been emptied and was full of a 12 year old’s clutter. There then followed a Laurel and Hardy style ladder routine to correct the problem!
We’re now nearly there but are having delivery problems. Firstly, that although ordered together, everything is now coming separately. Secondly, although we were told we would have delivery date options, they now can’t offer us any and can only deliver the one day in seven that no-one except the dog’s at home!
Still, I do now have an incentive for getting it finished – she’s having a birthday sleepover for 6 in two week’s time. If it’s not finished they’ll be sleeping (or not) in the living room which is directly under my bedroom!
What really takes the biscuit is that we never seem to learn. And that similar to forgetting the pain involved in that other ‘labour of love’ you experience at the start of each little one’s life, DIY seems to have the same effect. So when my son asked when his room was going to be brought up to scratch, I found myself saying “Oh, we’ll try to get that done before the year’s out.”!
February 2008
It occurred to me the other day whilst standing in a queue in the men's department of a high street store, that there weren't many men around, in fact the only ones to be seen were in female company. Why, I wondered, is it okay for the male of the species to delegate this activity to the fairer sex (apart from us having better colour and dress sense and an eye for a bargain!)? The answer, it seems, is stereotypical - men hate shopping whilst women love it.
Well, I admit to having enjoyed shopping as a regular weekend activity in an earlier life - around the time when you earned money and spent it on yourself! And if the truth be told, the enjoyment even then was mainly in the company and quality of lunch or afternoon tea. Now time is a more precious commodity, I tend to bank up shopping items until I can put it off no longer, hit the high street with far too long a list and get in a very bad mood when it becomes obvious all will not be achieved.
I tried the internet but was always out when the items tried to be delivered. Once they were eventually received, they invariably ended up going back because they either didn't fit or the image that had looked great on the computer screen didn't live up to expectation in the real world.
No, the answer for me lay in finding a personal shopper who knew my taste and enjoyed nothing better than spending a day on the high street ... so now when my teenage daughter announces that she's "going down town with Vicky", I happily reach for my taxi driver's jacket and boots. Instead of charging a fare, I hand her a list and some money. I'm happy because I miss a shopping trip and she's happy because it's more shopping without having to spend any of her money. I think they call it a win-win situation!
January 2008
Am I alone in wondering if the new postal system was put into operation without a care for the customer or if it was, in fact, designed by a very clever money-making machine?
Gone are the days when you had a few first and second class stamps in your purse and the only conscious decision you had to make was how quickly you wanted your envelope to arrive before sticking on your stamp and taking it to the nearest post-box. Now it’s like a Blue Peter activity with scales, rulers, a chart with holes cut out of it … and invariably a trip to the not-so-near Post Office to get it checked and buy the extra 1p or whatever stamp to add to your first or second class stash.
No longer can you just run out to get that nearly forgotten birthday card with ten minutes to go before the final postal collection of the day. I did for a friend’s child and was quite chuffed I’d managed to find a decent one at the last minute with an age badge on it. However, woe betides me if I’d just written it in the shop and sent it off with a first class stamp. No, according to my local postmaster, the badge tipped it over the allowable 5mm thickness. This put it into the large letter category, not in terms of length, breadth or weight but depth – requiring an additional 12p! Had I not checked, the recipient would have had that inevitable postcard through their letterbox requesting underpaid postage before my card could be released.
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve had to go to our local sorting office since the summer and hand over cash for items which have been sent with the wrong postage. Usually £1.01 – the penny for the amount it was under-stamped and the £1 for a “service charge”. Last time, when I mentioned (nicely, of course) to the member of staff that it was a bit excessive to have to go to all this bother for 1p, I obviously hit a raw nerve. “Tell me about it!” he exclaimed and proceeded to show me all the mail waiting to be collected by people in my position. He reckoned the work involved by all the different postal staff to collect the money, not to mention the extra storage space required, would be costing more than it brought in - but apparently it was progress, wasn’t it?
However, I’ll finish on a happy note and with a word of caution to anyone, like me, who has decided just not to bother claiming their mail in future. My colleague, Ellie, had such an experience with her Christmas mail. After making the sorting office trip and humming and hawing over whether to bother paying the charge, she was ever so glad she did when she discovered a rather nice wee monetary gift in the awaiting card … it certainly made her trip worthwhile!
November 2007
This summer saw me eventually put into practice something I’ve talked to friends and family about doing for a long time. In fact, so long that in the meantime, it has become a very trendy pursuit … I grew my own vegetables.
Well, that’s slightly misleading, I don’t want to give you any false images of my becoming like Felicity Kendal in “The Good Life” (more’s the pity as far as my other half is concerned!). However, this spring I did manage to get my vegetables patch both dog and rabbit proof. A challenge in itself as my dog manages to urinate over most plants irrespective of whether they’re at the front or back of a bed (wouldn’t you fail to appear at your best after such treatment?), and the kids are convinced the wild rabbits bounce around on the trampoline at night (“Well, how else do the droppings get there?”). I then spent forever digging over some totally weed-ridden soil before finishing up with what rather surprisingly looked like a vegetables patch. The next problem was what to do with it!
Never, has anything seemed so satisfying as planting my little seedlings out (yes I chickened out and visited the local nursery) against a straight string and standing back in admiration at the area all marked up with rows of sprout, leek, broccoli, beetroot, cauliflower, carrot and potato.
Never, has anything seemed as disappointing as the summer rain lashing against the window, the slugs coming out in abundance and the pigeons finding an appetite rarely witnessed.
Ah … the highs and lows of an inexperienced vegetable gardener! Despite many setbacks, I experienced the wonder of strolling down the garden to cut what I needed for the evening meal and having it cooked and on the table within the hour. I made the kids do the same as I wanted it to be a memory they’d take with them to adulthood (I told them they’ll thank me for it in the long run and it wasn’t just because it was raining that they were being sent!). I’ve got a few jars of home-pickled beetroot in the cupboards and still harbour a dream of cutting a Brussel sprout stalk on Christmas morning for the meal but I think the insects may have a different agenda between now and then.
All in all it’s been a very therapeutic experience and one which I’d recommend to anyone looking to escape their everyday stressors… well, as long as you’ve got a good sense of humour and don’t expect miracles to happen overnight!
